Wants and Complaints
by AAnitab
Summary: "When have I ever complained about your playing the violin at three, in this case four, in the morning." Watson and Holmes work out issues from the movie, and their new and closer relationship with each other. Holmes/Watson romantic smut ahead.
1. Complaints

Title: Wants and Complaints

Author: AnitaB

Author's notes: The slash simply screamed off the screen in the new Sherlock Holmes movie. And while they didn't tell me exactly how Watson and Mary broke off their engagement, I think she came to her senses about just what the relationship between the two men should be.

Set sometime soon after the end of the movie, the boys are still recovering from all of the close calls inside the film. And they're getting more comfortable with certain new aspects of their relationship. Watson/Holmes romantic smut. NC-17 ahead, be warned.

I own nothing and nothing I do own would be worth winning in a lawsuit. No infringement intended. So let's get on with the show.

Wants and Complaints

By AnitaB

Chapter one: Complaints

//Yes, Holmes, when have I ever complained about your playing the violin at three in the morning…\\

Dr. John Watson rolled over in his bed, well… their bed and glanced at the grandfather clock just visible in the light from the open doorway. //So sometimes it's at four am.\\ Though the cool air on Holmes' side of the bed did indicate that the practice session had started earlier. He folded his arms under his head and listened to the so-called music for a moment.

This was no ordinary practicing of the violin. Neither was it the cold, decidedly analytical playing that Holmes did for the various insects he lured in one by one. This sound was far more… pained. The sound of the violin carried the weight of heavy emotions and even the pang of loneliness. Sighing in the back of his throat, Watson found himself again going to the man's rescue. //Just like always.\\

Throwing back the blankets, he climbed out of their bed and headed for the room he still called the armory. The lamps were turned low enough to shadow the night musician's face. Holmes was never that easy to read anyway, but Watson was well practiced at the art of it. The weight of the world so often rested on those lean, strong shoulders. So rarely would Holmes let him bear some of the burden beyond kicking open doors and playing logic sounding board. Maybe tonight…

"Holmes?" That scruffy chin lifted off the violin enough to angle his eyes into the lamp light. Watson's heart ached at the look on that precious face. His hands clenched on their own, hidden in the pockets of his robe.

"Yes, my dear Watson." Strong hands laid the violin down and tented under his chin. Lean muscles rippled under the smooth skin of that upper body. The man never seemed to get cold and he never put on a shirt for his late night wanderings. But then the social rules never played a role in Holmes' decisions.

"Aren't you cold?" He shook his head and answered his own question. "No, of course you're not." Watson pushed away from the door and took a seat next to Holmes on the floor. "And you don't want to talk about whatever it is that's bothering you, now do you?" A few nerves in his back loosened when the private detective leaned lightly against his shoulder. Even now, Holmes was sometimes reluctant to reach out for him.

"With your mind on the problem, I shouldn't have to say a word. You've got it all sorted out to that last letter, haven't you?" Holmes leaned his head down to rest against Watson's shoulder, brushing the side of his neck with soft, dark hair. The doctor sighed a little and slid an arm around him. If one was quiet long enough, sometimes Holmes talked just to fill the silence. And when the trouble was on his mind enough to drag him from a deep and, if he might say so himself, exhausted sleep, the talking would usually be on the right topic. Eventually. Pulling him closer, Watson dropped a kiss on the top of his head and waited quietly through several more deep breaths. "It was the explosion, on the river. But…"

"But the nightmare ended differently?" The stubble on Holmes' jaw scratched just a little against the robe's cloth as he nodded. That was a problem with a logical mind like his. His nightmares were incredibly detailed and entirely possible changes to real events. Holmes had probably seen exactly the kinds of fatal wounds that explosion could have caused. Had probably felt his heart stop in his chest and heard his last, shuddering breath in startling, dramatic, accurate detail.

And instead of waking him up for comfort, he'd crept quietly out of their bed and hidden in his violin. It made Watson want to hit him. Or hold him. Tonight, though, one response outweighed the other easily. "Holmes," curving his hand around that scruff-lined jaw, he lifted Holmes' chin up off his shoulder. "Come back to bed, old boy, and I'll show you just how alive we both are." Those dark eyes locked to his own, a silent look of need burning in them. Watson couldn't hold back for even one more second before that heat, pressing those agile lips under his own. The man in his arms responded wildly, hands clutching at his back and tongue dancing with his. Those arrogant fingers were shaking as they stroked over the ragged scars along the back of his neck and shoulder, outlining them perfectly even through more than one layer of cloth.

With a last shuddering little sigh, Holmes pulled back and licked his lips. "Lead the way, my dear Watson." It took a moment to untangle their arms before he could pull Holmes to his feet and close against his chest. Watson claimed his hand and solidly wrapped their fingers together, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"Don't I always?"

000

Only two things had ever managed to shut his brain off. Neither worked long-term. Sex and combat could, for a few minutes at least, clear the tornado of thoughts from his head and leave him pleasantly blank. But quickly the chaos of logic, facts, and details would flood his mind in continuous waves. Normally, it was something he enjoyed, something that thrilled and delighted him. As he had said many times, he thrived on challenges, on problems, on work.

But sometimes the flood his brain couldn't shut off was something he didn't want to examine minutely enough to see every little detail. Sometimes the logical progression of his thoughts went places he never wanted to go again or places he'd never been and had no desire to imagine. It was at these moments that Sherlock Holmes became desperate to distract himself by any means necessary.

It was only rarely that he had something so delightful to turn his focus on. And even more rarely that the distraction was the same source as the flood. //My dear Watson.\\ Holmes focused on the exact texture of those lips and that mustache against the back of his hand. He tried to lose himself in the heat in those eyes, in the strength and care in this man's grip. He helplessly trailed back to their bedroom behind those strong shoulders and lean back. But the view wasn't what he truly wanted. Watson was covered from above the collarbone to the bottom of his heel. In most places on the tall, lean body, he was wearing at least two layers. Just like always. It was so frustrating. But it did mean that Holmes would get to explore that body, remove each of those layers and run the sensitive tips of his fingers along each and every gorgeous line of Watson's body. He would get to bare and stroke every inch of him from the strong line of that jaw to the high arches of his feet.

"Watson," His free hand reached out before his brain had processed the move, fisting his fingers in the back of that robe to pull the man to a stop. Holmes then found himself pressing Watson's back against the nearest wall and cupping that strong, stubborn jaw in both his hands. He watched those gorgeous eyes drop to his lips, watched a quick tongue peek out to trail over a soft lower lip. It boggled his mind that Watson did indeed want this as desperately as Holmes did himself. It was perfection. "Watson, kiss me."

Those lips that he wanted more than his next breath quirked in a familiar little smile before those hands slid along his bare chest in a soft drag of heated skin. "Always, Holmes, always." That tall body bent down enough to put those lips in reach, making Holmes rise on his toes to meet the motion. A tickling brush of mustache was followed by the soft pressure of lips and the wet plunge of agile tongues. Watson made a delicious little moan against his mouth in the instant before those strong hands clenched against his back and pulled him hard against that chest, deepening the kiss.

He wanted more. More of that moaning, more of that warm wet taste, more of that skin pressing against his own. Logically, in order to get what he wanted so desperately, Holmes had to stop. He wanted Watson naked in bed, not a quick bout against a wall. Weakly pulling back from this delicious kiss, he reached for the belt of that robe to the sound of another sweet moan rasping in Watson's chest. That man was about a half a second from dragging Holmes into another kiss, enjoyable no doubt but it would delay them. "Bed, Watson. Naked on our sheets. Get there. Now."

Those gorgeous eyes fell shut with a tempting sound. Then the rasp of Watson's voice tested his restraint and his planning. "You first, Holmes. And the sheets are mine." Those strong hands shifted against his skin, guiding him almost roughly away from the wall and towards their bedroom door. "While we're at it, those are my pants you're wearing. Take them off."

Now he was in front, warmed more than made sense by the force and strength in the hands that never left his skin. The muscles in his legs stuttered and failed for a second as Watson took that particular matter into his own hands. Hot, strong fingers rubbed down his chest and stomach to open the button and zipper of their pants and slip inside. Holmes clutched at those wrists and leaned back against that chest just to keep his feet under his body. "Watson…"

Those arms tightened and those hands dipped lower. Warm, soft lips trailed up and down his neck, dragging the tickle of a neatly trimmed mustache along with them. "Yes, my darling Holmes?" Those fingers stopped an agonizing inch from his erection, spreading strong and hot ever so low on his torso. His Watson pushed him just a little further by pulling his body back tight against his hips. Holmes could feel it, the hard length of Watson's need, pressing strongly through layers and layers of cloth against his ass. "Did you need something?"

"You, you bloody bastard." If he didn't get that hand on him, right now, Holmes was going to melt into a puddle of love and lust at Watson's feet. Wouldn't that just amuse the hell out of the laughing man at his back. "Now!" Grabbing that strong wrist, he shoved Watson's hand down their pants until his erection rubbed into the heat of that palm. Strong fingers curled and stroked, robbing Holmes of the ability to breathe, or move or think. Gloriously.

000


	2. Needs

Wants and Complaints

By AnitaB

Chapter two: Needs

He needed this too, needed to feel this man in his arms, in his hands. Watson adored the fact that his touch could make Sherlock Holmes, the most famous mind in England, stutter and stop. That he could bring this man to the point of mindless need. That his hands, his mouth could reduce this brilliant complex man down to simple words and physical sensation.

And he simply loved the feel of every glorious inch of his Holmes under his fingers, against his lips and tongue. Hot, hard, smooth and pulsing with life and need. Holmes wasn't the only one of them who had nightmares about death. Curling his fingers hot and tight around the erection in his hands, Watson focused his mind on the man panting and arching against his body, not his own dark dreams. He helplessly stroked that hard length with hungry fingers, his mouth feeding on the arched line of Holmes' throat and the sweet helpless sounds on those lips. Watson fought to pull back before he would find himself fully clothed on his knees, pinning those moving hips against the wall with his hands and his mouth. That wasn't what Holmes asked for, wasn't what he needed. And to be perfectly honest with himself, a quick bout against a wall wasn't what his own nerves were begging for either. Watson wanted hours to explore what he could do to the man in his arms, to feel and touch and taste his Holmes.

"Holmes, bed, now, fast." It took all his vaulted control to give up the hard, smooth length of that erection in his hands and grab hold of those hips instead. Pushing with his body, Watson pinned Holmes to his chest and walked them both down the hall to the open door. A few feet from the edge of the bed, he forced his hands off that skin entirely by pushing that man to the mattress. "Get naked, now!" He wasn't one to ask of others what he wasn't willing to do himself. Watson put his own hands to work on his belts, buttons and fasteners even as his eyes locked themselves to the growing expanse of visible skin on the bed. The robe and shirt hit the floor just seconds after the last of Holmes' clothes. Holmes' knees were quick to follow them.

"Let me," Warm lips parted low against his stomach as agile fingers brushed his out of the way. Watson helplessly braced his feet wider and buried his hands into soft, dark hair for balance as his Holmes kissed and licked at his skin while those strong hands stripped him bare. Cold air on overheated skin made him shiver before that chill was replaced by the hot wet stroke of his favorite tongue. "Delicious, Watson."

//Oh, dear lord, my Holmes.\\ It was all he could do to stay on his feet as the man kneeling before him enveloped his hard length in the hot, wet depths of his mouth. It was one of his favorite things in the world to feel this man's brilliant mouth working wonders on him. Those deep, dark eyes locked on his face for the first helpless arch of his hips. Even with his lips so pleasantly busy, Watson could see the smile in his eyes.

Holmes loved to take control, to watch as Watson lost any and all restraint. And while he rarely put up a fight, that wasn't the plan for this little encounter. It was his turn, it was Watson's time to be in control and give his Holmes every sensation, every touch, kiss, and feeling. He needed to prove to his logical man that they were very much alive and well, not just stand here and take pleasure. "Holmes, stop." The man at his feet actually shook his head and pulled his length deeper into the hot pleasure of his mouth. Watson groaned low in his throat and fought against his body's need to thrust, to slide his every aching nerve over that exploring tongue. For a moment he failed, feeling the vibration of Holmes' pleased sound around his tip. "Bloody hell, man, I said stop."

Watson forced himself back and dragged Holmes to his feet, pinning the shorter man to his chest for a deep, hard kiss. Strong hands clutched at his back as he slid his own hands down to Holmes' hips. He wanted, he needed to feel them touch from head to toe, needed to get his fingers back around that gorgeous erection. Watson wanted this man helpless beneath him, incapable of anything but feeling. "Watson, please, I want… I need…" That body arched helplessly in his arms, rubbing their erections against each other in a gorgeous drag of hot skin and breathless groans.

"Me. I know exactly what you need, Holmes. And I'm going to give you everything, absolutely everything. My way." Watson caught those hands just before they would have reached for him again, kissing each palm with a lingering stroke of his tongue. "Get on that bed and lay back." Nothing in the entire world was as beautiful as the sound on those delicious, talented lips and the sight of that gorgeous body stretched out across their bed. It was going to be so damn hard to take the time he wanted when those dark, heated eyes begged for fast, hard, and desperate. "That's my good boy, relax and hold on."

The wide-eyed, slightly panicked look on that gorgeous face told Watson in no uncertain terms that this was going to be a fine balance between patience and need. Seemed like a win-win to him.

000

This was almost exactly what he needed. His Watson was standing beside their bed wearing nothing but his skin and need in his eyes. But it was only almost perfect because, despite the gorgeous view, the man was out of reach. His hands were helplessly clenched with the desire to touch every finely sculpted inch of the body before his eyes. "That's my good boy, relax and hold on." Just the low growl in Watson's voice made relaxing impossible. He wanted to strip this man of his self-control, needed to feel him wild and reckless in his arms. Holmes needed to feel the pulse and heat of his Watson as close as biology would allow.

But the holding on wasn't a bad idea as that gorgeous form moved closer. Holmes fisted his hands in the sheets to keep himself from disrupting the view of his Watson crawling into bed. Nothing was more eye-catching than the smile on those delicious lips, except just maybe the hard, delicious length of his erection. "Watson," He wanted that shaft in his mouth, wanted to feel every beat of Watson's heart pulse against his tongue, wanted to make this man lose complete control with the heat and love of his touch. "I want to touch you."

Those sweet lips curved and Holmes knew he wasn't going to get Watson to bend, not just yet. "Soon, my love, soon. But not yet. I want to touch you first." His Watson was getting started with a kiss. Strong hands wrapped tight around his wrists, pinning his arms to the sheets as those hot eyes stared down at his lips. "Kiss me, Holmes."

Watson wanted to torture him, sounding so damn good, feeling so hot, skin to deliciously bare skin. Those lips stayed out of reach for far too long as that long, lean body pressed close, shifting over hungry nerves. The man was waiting for something but all Holmes could get out was a single simple word. "Please," His Watson smiled and finally, finally leaned close enough to give him those delicious lips. Holmes groaned helplessly low in his throat at the hot, wet plunge of that tongue in his mouth. He adored Watson's kiss. It was more necessary to his continued existence than air, or water, or food. And Watson knew it, shifting one hand to his jaw to control the depth and heat of this marriage of mouths.

With a low, beautiful sound, those lips pulled back far, far too soon. Holmes found himself pulling against the grip of that hand trying to get high enough to taste that mouth again. The pleading sound in his throat could by no means count as words, but his Watson knew exactly what he needed. Just like always. "Holmes, do you want me to touch you?" His entire body arched up against the hot, smooth strength restraining him. Words were beyond the puddle of need he was melting into on their sheets. "Hmm, that seems like a yes, but I didn't hear the word."

Holmes growled and jerked one hand free of Watson's grip, clenched those hungry fingers against his hair to force him close enough. Plunging his tongue past those sweet gasping lips, he ground his hips up against the hot, hard length of Watson's erection. Breathless, gorgeous seconds later, he forced his voice to work. "Blast it all, Watson, I want so much more than your touch."

The smile that curved those delicious lips sent his nerves leaping. "You'll get it, all of it… if you keep your hands…" That body pressed hard against his as those strong hands recaptured both his wrists and pinned them above his head. "Right here. The longer you do, the more I'll give you." Holmes could feel the potential in every inch of that gorgeous form. Watson was a man of his word, and creative to boot. If he could control himself, this man would bury him in the most unbelievable sensations possible. If he could hold on. "Can you do it, my darling Holmes? Can you give me control over you?"

Watson apparently had no damn idea just how much power he had always had over him. Holmes fisted his hands together and shoved them under the pillows bunched up at the headboard. "You have it, you've always had it." Lifting his head, he pressed a hard, quick kiss on those delicious lips before forcing himself to relax over the sheets. "I'm yours, Watson, take me."

"I'd love to." His fingers were already itching to explore the hot smooth lines of that body as Watson licked, nipped and kissed a hot line down his throat to his chest. "Every inch of you." When those warm lips opened right over his heart, it got even harder to keep his hands off the man heating him up. That little smile tested his control all the time, but never more so than when it was pressed against his skin. Then those strong, gentle hands encircled his erection in time with the stroke of a hot tongue over his nipple. "Every delicious inch."

The curl of the tongue and the sound of that voice told Holmes exactly where that gorgeous mouth was heading… eventually. And when that moment came, he knew with certainty that his hands were not going to be fisted in the sheets above his head, they'd be clutching at that strong back as his body arched helplessly into the heat of those lips. "Watson, please." Those lips pulled at the skin just under his belly button with a gentle little nibble before lifting to blow a hot breath over suddenly trembling muscles. His hips thrust upward without any control from his brain, every inch of him desperate for the heat of that mouth closer, hotter, tighter. "Watson,"

"Good boy, show me how alive you are. Show me how much you want this."

He'd never felt so alive before. His every nerve was pulsing with life, heat, and need. Every inch of his skin was vibrating with awareness of the heat of Watson at every single point of contact. "If you don't hurry it up, you're going to wake up naked and handcuffed to this headboard, all mine for hours."

Watson laughed against Holmes' hip, curling strong fingers tight around his erection for a quick short stroke. "That sounds like a reason to slow down, Holmes. A reward for my patience and self-control."

"Watson, Damnit, please."

000


	3. Control

Wants and Complaints

By AnitaB

Chapter three: Control

Holmes wasn't the only one suffering the delightful pain of anticipation. Watson was holding onto his control by the skin of his teeth. And it was killing him to be so close to the delicious and eager heat of his Holmes' erection and sound so calm, so patient. There was nothing he wanted more than to taste the man he held pinned to his bed. There was nothing in the world so beautiful as that rough, low voice begging for him, for his touch and kiss.

Watson could feel every single inch of his body struggling to move faster, to give himself and Holmes what they both wanted. Life, love, and heat. Sensation. Desperate, hungry need. "Watson, Damnit, please."

Tightening his fingers around that gorgeous erection, Watson felt his control fade with every sound on those lips and the helpless rocking of those hips. With a helpless sound of his own, he stroked an eager tongue the entire length of that shaft, ending with a kiss on the smooth tip. "Sweet Holmes, my delicious Holmes."

The body under his hands, his lips trembled and arched. The voice that had owned his nerves for years managed only a wordless desperate sound. To be the one who could rob this brilliant man of words… made his self-control and patience a thing of the past. With an equally desperate and wordless sound, Watson braced those hips with both hands and plunged his mouth over that delicious shaft. "Watson!" Strong hands lost their grip on the headboard to clutch at his shoulders, fingers sliding warmly over his scars and up the back of his neck to catch in his hair.

He'd said he would stop if Holmes moved his hands, but Watson found that stopping was impossible. He needed to feel, to taste the heat and pulse of Holmes's body in his mouth, against his tongue. He wanted this as badly as he could feel that Holmes did… maybe more. He'd thought about what it would feel like to hold this man, to touch him long before he had ever gotten to do anything about it.

It certainly didn't hurt that he absolutely adored the taste and heat of every inch of this man, loved the sound of his voice and the stroke of his hands. This was perfection, heaven, and it still wasn't enough. Watson hummed low in his throat, stroking his hands up the trembling muscles of that gorgeous chest. His Holmes was arching helplessly under his touch, every gorgeous inch of that body responding. More alive than they'd ever been. But not alive enough. Watson needed to feel that pleasure take over every single nerve in that gorgeous body, needed to taste it on his tongue.

Weakly pulling back enough to look up into those dark, hot eyes, he barely managed to push words to his lips. "Holmes, no holding back, you hear me, old boy? I want all of you, right here, right now."

"I can't hold back from you, Watson, I never could." Those hands cupped his jaw, strong fingertips rubbing gently over his lips and mustache. "Not when you feel so bloody good. Take me however you want, always so good. And it's mine turn next."

He felt the helpless smile curve his lips. Even now, Holmes wanted control back. But the man in his arms was still giving him that precious control. Now it was time to put everything he knew about Sherlock Holmes to real work. "I'm sure you have everything you're going to do to me all planned out. Let's see just how much of your plan I can make you forget."

His plans required a kiss. Curling his fingers around that beautiful erection, Watson leaned up for those lips. It was warm, sweet, and deep. He danced his tongue into the hot depths of that mouth, pressing hard against every inch of that body with his own. Holmes was hard in his hands, hot under his lips, and begging for more with every little move of his body. It was perfect. "Watson…"

"Just remember to breathe." Watson was smiling helplessly as he lowered his head to touch his lips to the arched line of that throat, feeling the rumble of Holmes's groan against his tongue. There was a spot, a patch of ultrasensitive skin just under the man's chin. The first time he'd found it with the small sting of a bite, Holmes had almost drawn blood on his back. The second time, they'd damaged the sheets beyond repair.

This time, when his teeth lightly scraped over that patch of nerves, every inch of Holmes's body bucked high and hard enough to raise his hips off the mattress and rub his shaft against Watson's stomach. The doctor found himself rocking against that body just to keep that delicious moan of his name on those lips. Holmes couldn't say his name enough. Balancing against the arched line of that body, Watson licked his way over tense muscles to the small peaks of his nipples. Experience had shown him that these were just as sensitive as any woman's, at least on Holmes they were. He braced those heaving ribs with both hands before closing his mouth around one peak and sucking hard. Holmes reacted beautifully as always, twitching and arching in a sculpted line of need.

"Good boy, you kept your hands still. What do you want for your reward?" Watson watched the man in his arms slowly relax against his sheets and open his eyes. Those hands slid up his skin, moving hotly over his shoulders to cup his face in strong fingers. Those lips opened and closed soundlessly more than once before he managed words. Watson loved it when he could rob this man of speech.

"I want a kiss, my dear man, and I want you closer."

The kiss he would gladly give. But they were touching almost head to toe already. There were only a few possible ways to get closer. All of them delightful. But which one would give his Holmes the most contact, the most heat… What would show them both how alive they were? Watson slipped one hand down between them, curling around his erection before tracing the tips of his fingers further back. "Where do you want me, Holmes? Do you want me …" A circling move of his hand made Holmes arch his back just a little, pressing against those fingers. "Here? Do you want to feel my pulse beating away inside you?" Strong muscles moved, arched, shifted, fighting to get him closer in exactly the way he was suggesting. But their owner had yet to say it. "Well, my darling Holmes, you have to ask for it if you want it."

That voice didn't manage words, but the message came through clear. His low rasp of a groan came with the tight grip of a hand around his shaft and very specific angling of those hips against his own. His Holmes wanted this as much as he did. And Watson had promised, hadn't he? "Alright, then, let's get you ready."

000

It wasn't enough. His Watson was hot and hard, pressing against every hungry inch of his skin. That mouth and those hands were stoking a fire everywhere they touched. It certainly helped that this man knew his every button and trigger. Nothing felt better than Watson close, hot, and holding him. But Holmes still wanted more.

Those delicious lips were asking him questions even as those fingers stroked and pressed, teasing him exactly where his nerves were pleading the most. And now Watson expected him to speak? Holmes got a sound to his lips, but knew deep down that there were no words in there. How to get that man to move faster…

Holmes got a grip on that gorgeous erection and moaned at the feel of that pulse beating in his palm. Half-pinned under that tall body, he couldn't quite get his Watson where he wanted him, but it was close enough to get the idea across by the low, sweet laugh on those lips. "Alright, then, let's get you ready."

//Finally,\\ Holmes gave himself over to the strong hands arranging him over their sheets. That long, lean body settled between his knees, hot blue eyes locked on his face. He found himself blind and helpless at the slow and gentle press of one finger inside him. "Watson… please." He couldn't reach him like this, wasn't positioned to drag that gorgeous body back up over his own. Fisting his hands in the sheets, Holmes arched into the slide and stretch of those fingers, making helpless little sounds in his throat.

His back was still arched when soft lips and a tickling mustache touched ever so low on his stomach. That was close enough to reach. Holmes weakly forced his eyes open and sank both hands into Watson's hair. The sight of the smile on those sweet lips made every muscle in his body go taut and trembling. //More, Watson, more of you.\\ Those eyes were locked to his face as the three fingers inside him pressed deeper and searched for something. His Watson was searching his face as closely as his body, waiting for either pleasure or pain to cross his features. But this… this man in his arms, in his body… this never hurt at all.

Nothing ever felt better. No puzzle, no challenge, no mental problem to solve. Nothing in the whole world was better than having Watson so perfectly close. Lips opened against his hip as those fingers shoved just a little deeper. A mustache brushed lightly over his skin with a low, sweet laugh. "Almost, Holmes, you're almost ready for me."

He'd never been more ready. Fighting to get words to his lips, Holmes watched those hot blue eyes. "I'm ready, Watson. So damn ready. Get in here." The fingers inside him suddenly curved and Holmes was lost for a moment in the sharp, instant rush of pleasure through his body. His nails dug into those strong shoulders as every inch of his body arched hard in those arms. //Oh, yes.\\ His Watson knew exactly what he was doing, just like always. It was perfect… and he wanted, needed more.

//Right now.\\ Holmes needed to feel every hot, hard, delicious inch of his Watson filling him up, warming him from the inside. But how to get it… Watson was positioned perfectly for leverage. He was pinning him to their sheets in such a way that Holmes couldn't move more than a helpless little rocking of his hips and a stroke of his hands over that skin. He was so close to the edge that he couldn't even speak, only managing wordless little pleading noises.

"Hmm, my darling Holmes, I think you are ready for me." Those hot fingers pressed deep one more time before Watson slipped completely out of reach with a hot kiss to his hip. Holmes found himself staring up into hot blue eyes as those delicious lips kissed each of his palms and those strong hands pinned his wrists to the bed. "Hold still for me."

He would try, but when those lips got close enough as Watson settled close and hot over his body… trying wasn't cutting it. With a low, desperate sound, Holmes leaned up and caught that delicious lower lip with his teeth, plunging into a hot, wet kiss. Reluctantly pulling back an inch, he found his voice. "Now, Watson, inside me."

"Yes, sir." That smile made his breath catch in his throat before the first touch of the tip of that length between his legs made any breathing impossible. Holmes fought to keep his eyes on that gorgeous face for the first slow press of his Watson inside him. Smooth, careful, and deep enough to make his back arch and his hands clench. "Oh, sweet bloody hell, Holmes." Just the sound of that voice moaning his name pushed him a little closer to the edge. But then Watson held perfectly still, positioned ideally to keep him from moving too. So deep, so hard, so perfect, so still. "Holmes, love." Holmes gave up on breathing when those sweet lips and dear mustache brushed against his mouth. Now was the time for kissing. Catching his hands in Watson's hair, he plunged his tongue as deep into that sweet mouth as the gorgeous length of Watson's erection was buried inside his body.

He was still lost in the kiss when Watson's body made the first real thrust. //Bloody hell, yes.\\ Holmes gasped against those sweet lips, arching his hips into the hard heat and careful angle of that body into his. Perfect, as always, but never enough. "Watson, my dear Watson, more. Need more of you." He felt the little twist of a smile that he loved on those lips before that long, lean body shifted above and against his.

"That's my demanding Holmes, ask for me." One strong hand clenched on his hip, changing the angle and holding him still. "You feel… so damn good, Holmes." He was breathless and helpless before the look on that dear face. And then he was helpless before the rhythm and depth of that erection inside him. Hard, deep, and hitting every pleasure center he had with every powerful thrust. Holmes loved this, loved the feeling of his Watson losing that calm control inside him. The muscles all over that gorgeous body went hard and trembling, making each plunge of those hips wilder and deeper. And simply heavenly.

Holmes felt his every nerve plead for just a little more. He clutched at that strong back and fought the grip of Watson's arms to change the angle, rubbing the aching length of his erection against the soft skin and flat muscles of that stomach. "Yes, my Watson, more. So good… you feel…" Watson made a low, desperate sound and he just had to taste that sweet moan on his lips. "Watson, kiss me… want a taste."

Those gorgeous lips twisted in his favorite little smile before he got lost in the dance of lips, tongues, and teeth. //That's my Watson, take your Holmes.\\

000


	4. Always and Again

Wants and Complaints

By AnitaB

Chapter four: Always and again

He'd lost it, just started thrusting hard and deep into Holmes' willing body. He adored the grip of those hands on his back and the desperate, pleading sound of his name on those delicious lips. But Watson had to slow down, had to regain his control and show the man in his arms just how much this mattered, just how alive they were. That he was home, alive, and loved beyond all reason. /I have you, Holmes, I love you.\\

But, dear bloody hell it was hard to slow down when Holmes started rubbing that gorgeous erection against the front of his body and begging for a kiss. Watson would do anything for the taste of those sweet lips and the sound of that voice. Anything at all. With a smile, he plunged his tongue into the delicious heat of that mouth and forced his hips to go motionless at the end of one long, deep, hard thrust.

"Hmm, my Holmes, can you feel that?" His Holmes tried to move, but Watson countered with the press of his hips and the grip of his arms, pinning the man beneath him ever so carefully. "I want you to focus a moment. Feel me inside you. Can you feel that? My heart, it beats just a little faster every time you tighten up around me. I can feel it. I can feel every inch of you react, the electricity arc through you every time I hit this…" Watson let his hips move, just once, shoving every inch of himself quick and sure over that sensitive patch inside his man and holding deep, so deep he had to grit his teeth to hold off his own climax. "Spot inside you. Feels so damn good…" He couldn't help a groan at the feel of exactly that sensation over his every nerve with the ripple and arch of Holmes in his arms. "Sweet Holmes… feels so damn good to come inside you, to feel you come apart around me, to burn up together."

Holmes went completely still beneath him for one breathless second. And then his dear, brilliant man acted and it was Watson's turn to be pinned to their sheets by a careful pressure of hips. His wrists were caught in strong fingers and held on either side of his shoulders. It was glorious, glorious to lie here under his Holmes and feel the strength of that body above and around his own. "Good God, Watson. You are torturous…" Watson barely got his eyes open before those hips moved and those fingers intertwined with his. Hot brown eyes stared down at him as their owner leaned close with a low, almost pained sound. "Got me all hot and you just stop. Fuck yes, my dear Watson, it feels good, so damn good just to have you inside me. But I want more. Gonna make you come apart. We're gonna burn up together." Watson only managed a low moan before Holmes swallowed the sound with a deep and desperate kiss, tongues dancing and thrusting with the same rhythm as those gorgeous hips against his.

He was going to do exactly as he said. His Holmes was going to make him come apart with the movement of every inch of that body above his. But there was no way in hell that Watson was coming first. Angling his hips to make the next thrust deeper, he struggled against the strong hands and lifted his head to sink his teeth into that full lower lip. Holmes groaned, his hips moving faster and his fingers tightening. /Almost, love, almost there.\\ Raising his knees, Watson beat him to the next thrust, rocking in quick, deep thrusts against that nerve cluster. Holmes' hands lost their grip on his around the third arch of his hips, dull nails digging into his shoulders. "That's it, Holmes burn up for me." Watson dragged his fingertips down the sculpted lines of that chest and wrapped all ten fingers around the beautiful erection rubbing against his skin. "I did get you hot, didn't I, Holmes? Hot and hard and all mine." He pressed himself inside to the hilt and angled that gorgeous shaft flush against his skin. "My Holmes, kiss me."

"Always," That gorgeous body leaned low over his, somehow keeping the rhythm of their hips even with the change in angle. Watson claimed those sweet lips the second they were in reach, tightening his fingers on that erection in time with each thrust of their hips. His Holmes was a nerve's edge from climax and he desperately needed to push him over the edge. "Hmm, Watson, please."

"Right here, Holmes, I've got you." Cupping that dear face in his hand, Watson angled his chin up and placed his mouth against the strained line of that throat. "I want you to come for me, love, right now." He waited a moment to feel Holmes figure out the plan and then he sank his teeth into that ultra sensitive patch of skin in a bite harder than any he'd ever given him before. It was a risk, but it worked. Every gorgeous inch of that body trembled above him as his Holmes spilled over between his fingers and shouted his name against his lips.

Watson was less than a second behind, carried over the edge by the feeling of his Holmes climaxing around every inch of his erection, against every inch of his body. By the feeling of the man he loved collapsing so comfortably against his chest. He could feel the racing of both their hearts echoing through his body as he wrapped his arms around those trembling shoulders and pulled his Holmes closer. The only sounds in the room were the combined rhythm of labored breathing and the rustle of sheets. But the room had nothing on the peaceful, quiet look on Holmes' face. That was what Watson needed more than the pleasure still flooding him, more than hot kisses and desperate touches. He needed to comfort this man, to care for him in the most primal of ways. It was what he'd always needed, just like the sound of his voice. "My dear Watson,"

His eyes clenched and he opened to the kiss Holmes offered, losing himself in the quiet heat. /Oh yes, my Holmes.\\

000

Watson had to know what he was doing to him, with the stroke and grip of those strong hands, the low, almost growl of that voice. His Watson knew exactly what Holmes needed, all the time. And good lord, that doctor always gave it to him. Holmes adored the inventive and deliberate movement of those hips under and inside his. He adored the thrust of that delicious tongue, would do anything for one more kiss. One more taste of his sweet doctor. And the knowledge that Watson wanted it too… nothing was better. "My Holmes, kiss me."

"Always," Anytime, anyplace. He'd move heaven and hell for a taste of those lips. And this kiss came with the stroke of hungry fingers, and the gorgeous rhythm of his Watson inside him. He was so close, he could feel it just past his skin. "Hmm, Watson, please."

The man in his arms, in his body, had a plan. And Holmes knew he was going to love it even before that voice sent little shivers through his skin. "Right here, Holmes, I've got you." His eyes fluttered as those strong fingers cupped and stroked his face. Those delicious lips kissed their way over his neck… to that spot just under his chin. Holmes couldn't move or breathe. . "I want you to come for me, love, right now." He wasn't going to be able to stop himself in a moment. His Watson bit him, sharp, hard and careful, shoving him right over the edge.

Heat filled him, crashed through him, washing over his every nerve with the sound of his name on Watson's lips. The feel of this man shattering inside him obsessed his every nerve. He couldn't hear, see or feel another thing in the universe when his Watson was coming inside him. The chaos couldn't reach him here, not in Watson's arms. Holmes collapsed into the loving grip of those arms, getting lost in the racing of the heart under his ear. He needed something, just a little more of this man in his arms. "My dear Watson," Holmes angled his head up, rested his hand on that racing heart and lost himself in a slow, sweet kiss.

Somewhere in the middle of the heat and depth of that kiss, strong hands rubbed up his chest to cup his face. But he wasn't nearly done with those lips and the sweet, agile tongue. "Hmm, Holmes." Nope, not done with those lips. He pressed forward again and plunged his tongue into that hot mouth. Holmes needed this, this heat, this quiet, this breathless touch and emotional need. Then his Watson sank sharp teeth into his lower lip, forcing him back with a gasp. "Holmes, you know I hate it when you creep away during the night. I've told you time and time again that I'll supply all the quiet you need."

"I know that, my dear Watson." He trailed his fingertips over those lips and the edge of that mustache. There was nothing he adored more than his Watson like this. "And you do supply the most amazing quiet. But in order to appreciate it, sometimes I must experience the chaos." The look on the doctor's face said that he didn't believe a word of it. They'd had this exact conversation before. "You looked so gorgeous sleeping there that I couldn't stand to wake you. Especially since I'd already kept you up most of the night."

A smile quirked those precious lips before Watson allowed him close enough to claim them again. Briefly. "One of these days, I'll be the one handcuffing you naked to this headboard… all night long. Maybe then you'll finally let this sink in. I want to be here… with you. I'm staying. I'm yours."

"And I'm yours, my dear Watson." One more deep sweet kiss gave him a moment of blessed silence. "Now give me some more of that quiet since you're so determined to be of use."

"Always my most difficult patient." Holmes barely had the time to smile before he found himself on his back under his Watson, hands pinned above his head. "Now where did you leave those shackles the last time?"

"I believe they're under the bed, where you left them the last time, my dear man." Holmes reached up and fisted both hands around the bars. "Get them."

"Always,"

000


End file.
